I fully trust in your capabilities
by Green Sphynx
Summary: America thinks he can't do it. France has no doubt he can. Warnings for Yaoi and USUK: don't like, don't bother reading


**This was so freakishly _HARD_ for me to write... I had inspiration and I knew I wouldn't be able to write it as good as I would like to read it, but in the end I decided to write it anyway. It's not _the_ most original idea, but who cares :P  
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**Warnings: Yaoi, USUK, almost-pride-damage and stupid bets**

**And for some reason Hetalia still doesn't belong to me...  
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**Enjoy!  
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><p><em>I fully trust in your capabilities<em>

England sat down on his chair content, waiting for Germany to stand up and give a reaction on his speech. He made another clear statement, and he was certain he would have the other countries agree in no time.

His eyes dwelled shortly to America and France, who would be most likely to disagree just for the sake of disagreeing, but was pleased to see they would not bring anything in against him because they were chatting. The two chatting through his speech would have offended him hadn't he been so happy about them not being able to interfere because of it.

He saw a mischievous little smile on France as he whispered something to America and to his surprise he noticed a faint pinking of the young nation's cheeks as he scoffed and clearly dismissed whatever the French frog was saying with a small wave of the hand. France's smile grew from mischievous to the downright evil smirk of a pervert who was challenged. France leant over and whispered something directly into the American's ear, who promptly turned beet-red and started protesting, for some mysterious reason still managing to keep his voice low – not one of America's best qualities, for sure. France leant past America and started whispering to another man. England's eyes widened for a moment when he suddenly noticed the northern American brother Canada next to his twin, but had no real time to follow the rest of the interactions.

England rose to his feet resolutely to answer Germany's questions on the matter of his speech. _No-one had ever dared to claim England wasn't able to multitask, especially if one of those tasks was keeping an eye on America._

...

"Bonjour, mon ami," France greeted him while he was slipping the neat pile of papers in his briefcase after the meeting.

"What are you up to frog, calling me a friend of all things."

"Ah, you hurt me," France touched his brows with the back of his hand in a dramatic gesture. "All I wanted was to ask you out for a cup of tea. Canada, America and moi would love it if you'd join us so we could have a chat like we used to. We hardly speak together with just the four of us anymore."

England looked up from closing his briefcase to examine France's expression. He had the feeling the French frog was up to something, but his expression certainly didn't give him away.

He sighed and snipped the little lock on his briefcase closed. "Alright, I will go with you. Just for a cup of tea though, if that git is around it is impossible to have a proper meal."

"I assure you I had no intention of letting him drag me to MacDonald's either," France winced slightly.

"Where are we going?"

"The little place on the corner, right outside the building. They have wonderful service there."

England scoffed as he followed France to the exit, "you mean they have pretty young waitresses, right?"

"Ah, so very pretty indeed!" France waved America and his twin over before they left the building to walk straight into the cosy little teashop. England was pleased to see it was decorated in vintage style, with pictures of their special coffees and teas hanging all over the place in matching shades.

"I'll have your most awesome American coffee," the America beamed to the waitress.

The waitress smiled amused and scribbled something down, waiting to take the orders of the others until they sat down.

"What exactly is a 'most awesome American coffee'?" France snickered after ordering.

"Pure awesomeness with caffeine, duh." America grinned.

England couldn't help but chuckle at that. Sometimes he was such a big oaf it became cute.

"Hey Artie? Why didn't you talk during the meeting?"

"Quit that nickname, America. And I did speak, but you were too busy with your intimate chatting with the frog to notice."

"Huh? What did you say then? We didn't accept it, right?"

England frowned, "in fact even you voted for it. I'm not in the mood to repeat my speech, you can read it in someone's notes if you like to know what you agreed on."

"That's not fair, Artie. Hero's don't vote for stupid things."

"It wasn't stupid at all, you should know."

"Actually England made quite a valid point," remarked a whispering voice next to France.

"See? Now what were you two up to anyway? I've never heard America whisper so softly – or maybe better said, I have never _not_ heard America while he was whispering."

"It wasn't really that important," America tried, starting to blush.

"No, it was just about a bet between the two of us," France smirked.

"A bet? Don't say you're making America do something perverted, you horrid frog."

"I was not doing anything like that. Actually it was about you."

England's eyes widened. _This could not be good._

"See, America has too little faith in you, my dear Angleterre. He was convinced that you wouldn't be able to do a certain thing, although I am quite sure he is underestimating you. Really, such low confidence in his former caretaker is horrible, it is completely unasked for. I fully trust in your capabilities, mon ami, that is why I said you would show him you could do it without doubt."

"What _exactly_ are we talking about?"

The ultimate redness of America's face was not really encouraging. But France was smartly formulating it so it became a matter of pride. Whatever it was, if England said he couldn't it would damage his reputation.

France batted his eyes innocently, "oh, just that you are _of course_ able to masturbate in front of someone else."

It took a few moments before France's statement actually reached a level of realisation in England's head. "WHAT!"

"See, Amerique," France said matter of factly, ignoring England's outraged state, "see how angry he gets just by the thought you doubted his capabilities."

"What the bloody hell are you saying! Why would I even _want_ to wank in front of someone else?"

"It is not about wanting, mon Angleterre, it is simply about being able to. You aren't saying you can't even do such a simple thing, non?"

England shivered in anger. France had an eyebrow lifted incredulously, as if he seriously believed masturbating in front of another was the most normal thing in the world. America was blushing furiously, but to England's utter shock even he was looking at him curiously. Just Canada was hiding his red face in his hands, muttering silently to himself. The poor lad probably regretted coming.

"Well? What will it be, Angleterre? Can you, or are you that much of a woman?"

With that something snapped.

"Of course I can do it, you bloody cum-sucking frog! I could do it anywhere and anytime if I had to!"

France smirked, "I am sure of that. Please, mon ami, it is not I who doubted you, but your sweet little Amerique. Maybe you would like to prove your point and show him tonight what you can do?"

England cursed in some of his most colourful ways, "if you want proof, you can come with me right now, you bloody git! I taught you better than doubting me, and I definitely did not teach you to go to the frog with it. I will have none of this nonsense!"

He grabbed America's wrist and dragged the boy out, setting a firm pace towards his hotel.

"B- but England!"

"No buts! If you want to see me wank so much, you _will_, whether you like it or not!"

"But I never said..."

"Shut up!"

By the time they reached the hotel, England was cooling down a little again.

In the lift he started doubting.

When he opened his hotel room cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

What the hell was he doing? It was impossible to call it off now. But he couldn't masturbate in front of America. Especially not America. He would die of embarrassment if he accidently moaned the boy's name if he got into it too much.

And he _always_ moaned the American's name when he was at it.

_Bloody hell._

He turned around hesitantly when America closed the door behind them. The boy's face was flushed, and _eager_.

_Eager?_

England narrowed his eyes. Who were they calling a pervert, if America looked so happy about it? If it was going to be like this, he didn't need to be the only one uneasy. With a face like that, the American _deserved_ to be tortured.

England quickly removed his jacket and tie and then took a firm grip on America's shoulders to manoeuvre him backwards until he was forced to flop down on a chair.

"You are going to sit there. And you will not leave that place until I tell you to. The deal was about me masturbating, so there will be no touching on your part, is that clear?"

America watched him with wide eyes. "No! Of course! I will stay here. I won't point a finger at you!"

"Good." England turned around and walked to his bed, sitting down on the edge to face America. He was not sure whether the eager blush on America's face or his own angry flush was the darkest red of the two.

He frowned at America for a long moment, steeling his nerves. America's expression turned to an uneasy one. The idea that this would become torture for the younger of them made it much easier to not think about the embarrassment it should bring for him. The other asked for it. He'd make sure he'd regret it.

England smirked and his hands snapped to his belt, quickly unbuckling it.

America gulped, and his gaze quickly lowered to England's crotch.

With one hand, England undid the buttons of his shirt, using the other to pull the belt from its loops and drop it to the floor. He left his shirt hanging open and slipped his trousers off, throwing his boxers after it to the floor.

It was showing that he was only just getting excited, but it didn't really matter. He'd show America the whole process alright.

He leaned back on his left hand and shortly swirled his fingers around his sac and penis. He looked up through his eyelashes to America while he started to caress himself with tender strokes of his finger tops. America was watching with eyes like dinner plates, only barely managing to keep his mouth shut.

England felt the corners of his mouth curl in a devious smirk. His fingers caressed slowly across his thighs, from one to another, passing through soft blonde curls on the way. He lightly massaged his sac and let his fingers draw down again. A shudder went over his spine in the lightness of his own caressing. Finger tops made love to the soft, warm skin of his inner thighs_**. **_He swirled his pinkie finger around in the curling hair every time the hand came close enough. His penis was slowly growing, still only half hard. This was an enjoying which still didn't need arousal and fast stroking.

He sat up so his other hand could come into play as well. He tenderly rubbed the palm of his hand from his belly to his neck, using the back of his fingers to trail back down. His right hand kept caressing his thigh while his left hand starting making a circular motion up his belly and chest and down his side with the same care he'd show a fragile piece of art.

He glanced up again. America's mouth was already hanging agape, and he hadn't even started yet.

His left hand started to concentrate around his nipple. He made a soft humming noise as his fingertips made feather light circles around the sensitive area on his chest. The fingers of his right hand now started caressing up and down his length, which was growing from half hard to truly erect. He switched nipple, still only trailing his fingers around it and took his cock gently between thumb and finger tips. He pulled his foreskin up and down delicately a few times before returning to massage his sac.

A strange squeaky noise resounded from the other side of the room, and England shot the younger boy a warning glare.

He finally took hold of his nipple between two stretched fingers, rolling them over each other to feel the pinch. He smiled contently and moved up his right hand to do the same with the other nipple. He rubbed them in different rhythms, alternately pinching between fingertips, rolling between stretched finger and rubbing them directly into his chest.

Soon he felt the need to touch himself down there again, this time a little more seriously. He let out a sigh and his right hand drifted down to take a grip of his fully erect length, handling himself soft and tender. His left hand pinched a little stronger and his right hand slowly squeezed upwards, moving is foreskin back over his tip. He closed the palm of his hand over the foreskin-covered tip, applying a soft massage with the muscles in his hand. A quiet moan escaped his lips.

His hand moved down his length again, his fingers encircling the entire shaft as they pulled down the foreskin until it could not move down further. One finger detached from the shaft to carefully touch the bare tip. He shuddered and groaned, tweaking his nipple again in response to the stimulation.

He caught a swift movement of America from the corners of his eyes, a hand snapping up to wipe at his mouth. England grinned lazily at the thought of America drooling over this. He moaned when the image of a drooling America in his mind changed to an image of America's drooling mouth over his cock.

His hand started to move up and down over his shaft in slow deliberate strokes. He turned his wrist around every stroke, maximizing the tantalizing feeling of his own rough hand massaging his length from base to tip. He spread his legs a little further for America to see, and glanced up again. The fingers on his nipples finally left on a feather light journey to his lips.

The dark red of America's face was endearing. The obvious bulge in the nation's jeans made England shudder in delight and he made a low growling noise. He slowly lapped his tongue over his first finger. America's jaw slowly dropped again.

His stroking hand kept a slow constant pace, teasing himself, while his tongue started a thorough exploration of three of the fingers of his left hand. He dragged the tip of his tongue up every finger one by one, finally popping all three fingers into his mouth. He let his jaw hang loose to allow America to see how his tongue swirled from one finger to another, saliva starting to drip down between his fingers over his hand. He moaned and sucked his fingers tightly, closing his eyes and letting his right hand falter slightly in its pace.

When he opened his eyes again he saw America's eyes frantically alternate between his hard cock and his lips.

He dragged his tongue up and down his fingers once again and then allowed his hand to drop down, smirking at America. He managed to keep himself from winking, for that would be too much of an invitation. And he was here to torture the boy, not to allow him into the fun.

He let his head fall back and swirled a first wet finger around his entrance. He spread his legs wide and shuffled back a little on the bed so he could place his feet on the edges. He squeezed his stroking hand shut for a moment and shortly slipped his finger inside. He quickly pulled it back out again and resumed swirling and stroking.

His head lolled to the side so he could watch America's reaction. When he slipped his finger in for the second time, he moved it in bit by bit with slow thrusts. He moaned.

America's iron grip on the sides of the chair released and his hand moved to rub the tight bulge in his jeans. England decided he was too far into the play to be able to tell the younger one to stop. He'd risk calling out the other's name wantonly instead of sternly.

So he just kept a steady gaze on the American rubbing his jeans, while moving around inside his still far too tight hole with one finger and stroking his cock still far too slow with his other hand.

He slipped in his second finger and allowed it to go through the same process of slow shallow thrusts before it fully penetrated. He sighed heavily and his two fingers twirled around. He tried to look for his prostate, but he usually had trouble reaching it with just two finger in such an awkward angle. For a split second he wondered if he had taken a dildo along to the hotel, but quickly decided that even if he brought it, it would be too degrading for himself in front of America.

His right hand finally started to pick up the pace and he started to squeeze around his length a little stronger. He slipped a third finger inside, but by now he had become too impatient to tease himself with slow movements. He wanted some stronger stimulation from this point on.

The faint sound of a zipper being undone reached his ears. He slowly cracked one eye open and caught America freezing in his movements of pulling out his cock. He closed his eye disinterested again, he was now too busy finding his own pleasure to mind America. He'd rather have America here on top of him instead of fumbling with himself in the other side of the room, but it couldn't be helped. This was all the damn frog's fault.

He groaned and pressed his fingers even deeper, desperate to find his prostate by now. The sound of America stroking himself in unison with him was too much. He _needed_ his prostate _now_!

"Aaah!" America's head snapped up surprised when England let out a long drawn gasp. A cross between a triumphant snicker and a moan escaped between lips pressed together while he strongly rubbed his prostate, his hand on his cock picking up the pace. He could feel precum dripping over his hand. His back was going to go into a nasty cramp soon, but he couldn't possibly remove his fingers from his arse now. If he'd do that it would be positively suicide.

He pressed his three finger inside with a fast pace, matching the quick stroking on his cock. A finger rubbed the tip of his length shortly while a finger inside of him paused to press the soft tissue over his prostate again before resuming his pace.

The third time he repeated this stilling of his movements a moan rolled over his lips. _Did he just moan America's name? He couldn't remember._ He opened an eye to look at America. He shuddered in the realisation that he, indeed, had moaned the other's name, judging the surprised look on his face and his suddenly alert posture.

_He couldn't care less._

"Americaaa," he drawled, squeezing around his cock a few times and looking the American straight in the eyes.

"Eh... England?"

England let his head drop back again, pressing his legs a little more to the sides and trying to arch his back without losing the touch on his prostate.

"England!"

"Aaaaaah! America! What?" His head snapped up, the pace of his hands unfaltering as he glared at the younger nation.

The younger nation who was now masturbating along with him without trying to hide any of it. The one with the large red cock shining of precum between strong tanned finger. The one who looked like he was about to jump out of his skin if he couldn't leave that chair soon.

"I-I... I can't look anymore. I can't control myself anymore if you go on!"

"Hmmm. America..."

"England stop it!" America released his cock and pressed his hands to his ears, smearing precum on his face along the way.

"Why should I?" England panted hard, bucking his hips into his own touch. "Didn't you want to see this?"

"I didn't want to look," America whined, "I wanted to touch."

"Then do it now, before it's too late, you git!"

America stared at him with wide eyes.

England let his head fall again in frustration, dropping completely back on the bed and putting his knees in the air. He lifted his hips from the bed. "America!"

The moment he heard the chair hit the ground America was on top of him, grinding his cock against his stroking hand and grabbing him at his side and his head. Strong lips pressed against his and a tongue invaded, not allowing any complaint.

England grinded up against the younger nation, retracting his hands before they got cut off of circulation between their bodies. He took hold of both of their cocks and continued his stroking, moaning with America in unison.

America paused the bruising kiss just long enough to take a breath before plunging down again, whining and bucking his hips.

England pulled back a little, turning his head slightly and panting heavily. "You know, what I did with those fingers down there would be so much better with something bigger."

America forced his face back up to continue the kiss, but he also lifted his hips. He took hold of England's thighs and pressed them apart, pressing his cock against England's entrance.

England moaned deeply and bucked his hips, urging the other to go on.

The American penetrating him with nothing but his own precum as lubrication was a little painful, but he was sure the wait until he would have found lube would have felt a lot more painful to his groin. Tears sprung in his eyes and he pulled back from the kiss to harshly bite his lip. It was a feeling like being ripped apart, too much pressure at a sensitive part of his body.

"A- Are you okay, England?"

"Moment," England managed to grind out. He rubbed the back of his head against the sheets of the bed, drawing blood from his lips with his teeth and from America's back with his fingernails.

"Should I pull out ," America sounded worried.

"Don't. Just... a moment."

America leant down and gently nibbled along the line of his cheekbone. His worried frown was cute, but England had no intention of making the younger one pull faces like that.

He moaned the other's name. "Move now."

"You sure?"

England groaned and pulled America in for a kiss, bucking his hips to show he was serious.

America slowly started rolling his hips, pulling out to only to immediately sink back in. He couldn't keep his slow pace for long and sped up quickly, snapping his hips with sharp jerks.

England's mouth dropped open, America's name falling from his lips in whines and moans. He tried to buck his hips to get friction for his cock between their bellies. America got the hint and took hold of his erection, pumping is with the same sharpness as his thrusts.

England knew he wouldn't last long.

He knew America wouldn't either.

So he did not mind at all to mumble something about coming and arching his back, America's name leaving his breathless lips one more time. White fluid ribbons splattered across his and America's chest. America groaned and jerked one more time uncontrollably before his muscles seemed to freeze during his orgasm.

They both flopped down exhausted, England barely managing to steer America's falling form to the side before he was crushed. They lied next to each other panting for a while.

"This wasn't entirely what you asked for... But I think I still legitimately proved the point, didn't I?"

"Yeah. You did."

Another silence fell.

"Hey Artie? It's not like _I_ asked for this you know? It's just that France said you would love to, and I said you wouldn't do such a thing. And then he made that bet. It's really just France's doing."

"And why would France say I'd love to jerk in front of you," England inquired suspiciously.

"Eeehhh," America laughed uncomfortably.

"Look, I just want to know what I'm going to hit him for. It's nice to have a defined reason once in a while."

"Well... it's kind of like I sort of admitted that I might really like you and France immediately took it his pervert way, thinking I was just lusting after you."

Another silence fell. From America's side an awkward silence. From England's side a stunned one.

"You _what_?"

"D-don't mind it! Like I said, France just took it the wrong way and..."

England interrupted by quickly rolling over, landing on top of America. "You are saying you like me in another way than lusting? But you still fuck me, so that means you love me, correct?"

America was flushed down to his chest, stuttering incoherently.

England smirked and kissed the younger nation shortly. "Well, it would make things a lot easier if I didn't have to moan your name to an empty room anymore."

"B-but don't you see me as a little brother?"

"You made it awfully obvious you didn't wish to be my little brother back in the revolution, love."

"B-but..."

"If you don't want to, I am not forcing you to be my lover."

"L-lover?"

"What else would you call the one you are going to have a romantic relationship with?"

England never got an answer to that question.

All he got was a mouthful of American tongue and an renewed arousal poking into his thigh.

Well, who was interested in sorting out proper terminology like that anyway? As long as the principle stays the same.

He gladly re-entered the game of tongues.

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><p><strong>Constructive criticism and nice reviews are LOVED, flames are not. Let's all behave like we've been raised properly, now shall we?<strong>


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